About Me – I Didn't Want to Be a Mother

The Problem with Parenting and Free Time

April 12, 2021

Ha. You don’t have it.

Still with me? You still don’t have it. I write because, at the time I first started, the only me-time hobbies I had were sleeping and eating. I didn’t even have showering or using the bathroom -in fact, I didn’t even have sleeping and eating. And so, I started writing. I even had some paid work doing writing; this fact warranted the use of that non-existent free time toward facing a computer and expressing myself with words.

So, it’s easy to look back over this and my other blog, shake my head, lament my negligence, and resolve to …ignore the elephant in the room because I have even less free time now. Buuut, I’ve loved it. Thank you for reading and supporting. I’ll be back when I can.

And, if you’re a parent without much free time, I get it. Keep at it, whatever you’re doing. Spending some of that time on yourself will make you less crazy, and that’s never a bad thing.

Birthing Plans and Other Best-Laid Mice and Men

November 14, 2020

My second child came into the world the wrong way.

He wasn’t unplanned. He didn’t attempt to escape bum-first. He did ruin all my lovely plans to have a natural birth at a healthy point in the pregnancy with the aid of a midwife.

After being checked into the hospital for monitoring around week 30, I told the nurse I couldn’t possibly be facing a necessary C-Section. “I had a birthing plan!” I protested.

The (bad-news) nurse laughed and said, “It’s always the ones with birthing plans that end up in emergency surgery.”

Rude!

But, what if she was right? What if Fate, Karma, or a teasing God wants to remind pregnant women just who’s in control of the miracle of life? Does that mean we ought not to try?

Of course not.

What I will suggest, to any woman expecting, is to be flexible. I went through the worst weeks ever with that second pregnancy, because every week presented a new set of bad news. First, I passed a blood clot and thought I’d killed my unborn baby. Next, I learned I had a placenta previa and would have to have a C-Section; I said, “Goodbye” to my midwife and our natural birthing class. Then, I had bleed after bleed after ambulance ride after bleed after hospital check-in after bleed after emergency delivery by a vertical C-Section.

No natural birth. And, no future vaginal births.

At the time, I was quite upset. But, as I tell one of my children frequently, it doesn’t do any good to fall down a hole and sit at the bottom of it yelling. It certainly doesn’t do any good to muddy yourself up even more in order to look more pitiful.

I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have my birthing plan. But, I’ve since given birth to three more children. And, I got to schedule every one of them. Surgery’s not ideal, but it sure is convenient for a birthing plan to arrange for babysitting.

So there, bad-news nurse.

Breaks, Momming, Blogging

October 14, 2020

Ironically, I didn’t go so far between posting back when I was far busier. The problem is that, last year, I made a goal that never saw fruition: to be nominated for my friends’ Blogger’s Bash. So, I wrote every day. I posted tips, quotes, advice, etc.

And, I spent the sleepless days and nights in nauseated discomfort from being pregnant.

Still, the blog looked good. And, on the plus side, I was able to proudly display my every-day-writingness for things like applying for a writing job (that fell through), and applying for more recent jobs (those also fell through).

What does that leave me with?

A baby -well, nearly a toddler. Today, as I put clothes into my dresser that he pulled out again, I realized where daily-bloggingness had gone: right where all the socks and underpants were now going. Even while I was pregnant and busy, my children were older. When they slept, they slept (mostly). When I wanted a break, I could do things like send them outside or put on a Minecraft video.

So, I’m not sure where this mom blog will go. Perhaps, like with the children, it will see occasional nourishment and care*. Perhaps I’ll try scheduling poems again. Or, perhaps I’ll pop in now and then to feel guilty that, again like with the children, I’m just not telling the blog I love it enough*.

For those loyal, wonderful, amazing, beautiful, handsome, intelligent people still following, thank you. You are all of the previously-listed attributes and more.

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

*Joking.
*Still joking.

Super Parent or …Me?

March 6, 2020

I recently had a brush with a Super Parent.

Between coordinating math competitions and drawing up homework schedules and suggesting vinyl cutouts of inspirational quotes to stick around the school, the Super Parent (SP) texted me to ask how my overachiever plans were coming along…?

I assured SP that all’s well, then accidentally sent my son to school in his younger brother’s pants.

While I could blame my lack of motivation and involvement on the number of children I’m keeping alive (five), I know I’ve had about the same level of parenting for all of them. They just get things like the wrong pants when I’m recovering from popping out their sibling.

Thing is, I have a different reaction than action compared to SPs.

Problem: Son needs a real volcano for his Science Fair Project? He needs it now? It’s due tomorrow? But it’s bedtime…

Solution: Meh; this will build character. Go to sleep and cobble something together in the morning.

I’ll teach the values of project management, ingenuity, and last-minute b.s.-ing. Frankly, that last one will help him more times than he’ll know.

I’ll admit to some guilt when my laissez-faire approach comes out. What if not having five hours of piano lessons since he was five means he never goes to college? What if he catches pneumonia because I couldn’t leave my hour-away appointment to pick him up because he felt “sniffly?” What if that real volcano impressed little Julie Jenkins, super-intelligent and talented daughter of the SP that texted me, and she therefore agrees to go out with and marry my son when they’re twenty, and my adorable grandchildren (whose upbringing and education will be handled by their SP grandparent) never come to be??

That’s when I reassure myself that, if Julie Jenkins doesn’t love my son for who he is, she shouldn’t marry him. I mean, volcanoes can only take a relationship so far…

That, and I’d rather be a consistent and level-headed parent than a volatile and high-strung one. I’ve seen those go-getter types in school, and they were only happy when they had the good stuff. I don’t want that for my kids if we can avoid it; I want them to be balanced and truly happy.

So, SP, things are going well. My kids are alive, my son’s wearing pants, and my other son just pulled some paper into a mountain and painted it brown.

He says the vinegar and baking soda will be red.

Photo Credit: Valeria Zoncoll
Xavier Mouton Photographie
Aaron Thomas

Are You Going to Try for a Girl?

February 20, 2020

I have five boys. Since I live in Utah, the land of many children, I rarely get judgmental questions about that number. What I do get asked is:

Are you going to try for a girl?

The assumption, of course, is that I want a female offspring. I don’t. I’ve dreaded making a girl since my own Maturation Program in school. My feelings of absolute shock and betrayal are still present, besides the knowledge that I’d have to spring that information on my own daughter someday…

“That life you’ve lived up to now, with sunshine and rainbows and happiness? Well, dearest daughter, that’s all over in a few years! Once you hit your teens; you’ve got bleeding, pain, weight gain, and hormone fluctuations. -But don’t worry, when you don’t feel like cutting your own uterus out of your midsection, you’ll be able to put on a lot of weight for 9 months and pop out something that you’ll need to care for …for 20 years, at least…”

Yeah, I’ve got issues with being a mother. But if you didn’t know that already, you probably missed the name of the blog.

Back to the point: I’m terrified of birthing a girl. In that light, one could assume I’ve never been trying for one. I think it’s obvious that I haven’t, anyway, but can see how others assume that based on my constant impregnation.

Frankly, I’m not sure why I keep getting pregnant, either.

Either, or: no, I’m not “trying for a girl.” I’m trying for a baby. If that baby comes out with his (or her!) vital body parts then we’ve succeeded. If he (or she!) is also healthy and whole then we’ve done even better.

And if s/he is an excellent sleeper, we’ve hit the jackpot.